The First Slayer

"We're running out of time," Ronan said, his voice sharp but steady. "Since you want to help me retrieve those rings, you need to know how they work. Really work."

Elion didn't say anything at first. He just stared at the cowboy—this war-hardened guy from another world—like he was trying to figure out if really work meant "practice drills" or "possibly lose your soul."

Jordan, on the other hand, looked like a toddler about to unwrap his birthday present.

"Come on. I'm ready," Jordan said, practically bouncing on his heels. "Hit me with the secret knowledge."

Ronan rolled his eyes. "Sit."

He gestured toward the floor with a curt nod, and both of them lowered themselves onto the cave floor—Elion with a sigh, Jordan like he was diving into a ball pit.

"Cross your legs. Keep your back straight," Ronan instructed.

Jordan made a show of wiggling into position, hands on his knees like a meditating monk. "Alright. What's next? Am I going to glow?"

Ronan didn't answer. He just reached forward, placing two fingers gently on each of their foreheads.

Elion had just enough time to mutter, "Wait, what—" before the world fell away. He lost the sense of space and time at that moment. It was pitch black at first, then—white. Not the white of snow or clouds or light bulbs. This was… absolute. An infinite, blinding void that stretched in every direction—too bright to be a room, too empty to be a dream.

Elion was standing, but he didn't feel the ground. He wasn't cold or hot. His body was there, but it wasn't. It was like floating inside a thought. Then came the voice. Not Ronan's. Not Jordan's. Something ancient. Timeless. Like a documentary narrator who had lived the documentary.

"Across the universe, there are things that humans were never meant to possess.

Such a thing was the Beast Rings."

Elion turned sharply—looking for the source—but there was nothing. Just him, the endless light, and suddenly—shapes. Cracks in the light were like shattered glass. And behind the cracks—color. Worlds bleeding through the whiteness. Before his eyes could even be adjusted to the surroundings, came the rings.

They appeared one by one, floating in a circle around him. Glowing. Pulsing. Each one a different color—some familiar, like white, yellow, green, and gold—others shifting between hues his brain couldn't name. He felt the power roll off them in waves. Like standing near thunder. Like being watched by something too big to see.

"To some, they were miracles—gifts of power beyond mortal imagination.

To others, they were cursed relics—born from ambition and soaked in blood.

But no matter what name history gave them, one truth remained—

They were never meant to exist."

The light pulsed again, and the world shattered. Not in sound—but in vision. Suddenly, Elion wasn't in the void anymore. He was watching. Standing still as the world replayed a memory that wasn't his. A battlefield stretched before him. Armies of men clashed with monsters that dwarfed them in size and presence. But this wasn't a fantasy. It was a massacre. Humans hurled spears and fire, lightning, and steel. Some of them even controlled the elements—sorcerers, maybe. Elion couldn't tell.

It didn't matter.

Because on the other side of the battlefield stood them—the beasts. And they weren't just beasts. They were divine. Some walked upright, with eyes filled with intelligence and cold fury. Others resembled titans carved from stone and bone, their roars shaking the earth. Wings blotted out the sun. Claws tore through cities. Fire rained from the mouths of scaled giants. And the humans? They were dying. Losing. Every defense, every desperate act of bravery, every last stand—it was never enough.

The voice returned, softer this time. But still steady.

"Before the first rings were forged, the beasts ruled the world.

They were not creatures of instinct—but of dominion.

Gods of land, sky, and sea.

And for centuries, mankind fought.

And for centuries… mankind lost."

Elion wanted to look away. He felt the screams, the fire, the desperation. One scene blurred into another—cities in ruin, survivors fleeing, warriors crushed beneath talons the size of cars. A wave of sorrow hit him in the chest. It was hopeless.

Suddenly, the world paused. Elion now had time to clearly see the terror on the faces of the humans. He could see the houses, buildings, and everything destroyed.

"This is… too much," Elion muttered. He wondered if such a thing would befall the Earth if more beasts came. As Elion was deep in thought, the voice echoed again—no longer just narrating. It sounded… awed.

"Until one man changed everything."

The scenes changed quickly. It was like Elion was watching a fast-forwarded video. The scene resumed at a battlefield. A single person stands in the ruins of a war. He was cloaked in shadow and surrounded by the bodies of fallen creatures. In his hands, he held something new. Something Elion had not seen yet.

A glowing stone.

Elion knew that was not just any stone.

"His name was lost to time, but history remembers his title—the First Crafter or…

the First Slayer."

Elion's pulse pounded in his ears. 'Slayer? Ronan had mentioned this once.'

"He was no sorcerer, no king.

He did not lead armies or use magic like others.

He was a scholar who sought to understand instead of fighting.

And in the depths of forgotten ruins, he uncovered the forbidden art not from the world.

The Beast Slaying Art."

The scene shifted, revealing knowledge that had long been erased from history. Elion was shown the ruins where the First Slayer found the art.

"Where have I seen this?" Elion muttered.

The ruins were familiar. The entrance was of the mountains. He tried to recall, but he was interrupted by what he saw next. Elion saw the First Slayer not in battle but in study. He did not charge into war—he watched it. He studied the Beast Slaying Arts, the beasts, and the way to use their powers against them. And most of all—he studied the heartstone, the core of the beast. The heartstone had come from a wolf beast—the first of its kind. That was where it all began.

Heartstones—the shimmering cores pulsed within the beasts' bodies. The source of their power. No human had ever dared to tamper with them because of the violent energy stored within. One wrong move could easily have shattered their bodies and souls. Either killing them or turning them into one of the beasts.

"To steal a heartstone was to invoke the wrath of the beasts.

No man could survive such a crime and the consequences coming from it.

No man should survive."

But that was what made the First Slayer different. With the Beast Slaying Arts, he walked a new path. The path of a Slayer. The heartstones? He did not just steal them. He forged them into a ring and used the power to give hope to humanity. Elion watched as the heartstone in the man's hands changed—its shape warping, shifting—becoming a ring.

A Beast Ring.

The first of its kind.

The voice grew heavier, as if even speaking of this moment carried an unbearable weight.

"It was a sin against the natural order.

It was a power that no human was ever meant to wield.

But desperation breeds madness.

And so, the First Slayer did what no one had done before.

He took the power of the beasts for himself."

Elion saw it happen. The ring slid onto the man's finger. And the moment it did—he changed, not into a beast, not into a monster. Something in between. The First Slayer now bore the form of a wolf—not twisted or monstrous, but regal. Controlled. A perfect balance between man and beast. Unlike the bear-man or the bull-man.

"With the Beast Rings, man gained what was once untouchable.

The power to fight.

The power to rule."

The images flashed again. The First Slayer unleashed a new kind of power, unlike anything Elion had ever seen done by the humans in this dream-like space. With his newfound strength, he tore through the battlefield—moving faster than any human should, striking with the force of a monster ten times his size. The tides of war shifted. For the first time, humans were winning.

With the First Slayer on the battlefield, everything changed. Beasts that once tore through entire battalions now fell like shadows beneath his blade. Human casualties dropped. Hope returned to dying eyes. He moved like a phantom—cloaked in a flowing black robe, face hidden behind a dragon mask. His every step was silent, every strike deliberate. And wherever that mask appeared, beasts perished. Each blow didn't just wound—it ended.

He was the hope.

The scene changed again. This time, a few people whom Elion believed were kings or emperors met the First Slayer. They brought gold, beautiful women, and many other treasures that would easily tempt any other men. Elion didn't need to read their minds. Their intentions were written all over their faces. However, the First Slayer chose to turn down everything, but he still agreed to their request.

"The First Slayer chose to share his gains.

He did not wish for rewards, fame, wealth, or anything in return.

And so, the Beast Rings spread.

The warriors wielded them. Armies rose.

The beasts, once the rulers of all, became the hunted."

Elion felt a cold realization creep into his bones. This wasn't just a story about survival. This was a conquest. And now, it wasn't the beasts who had been the conquerors. It was humans. However, the scene darkened.

"What… is this?" Elion was surprised to see the next scene. "Why? Why is this happening?"

The voice's tone deepened.

"Power is a hungry thing.

It does not satisfy. It does not soothe.

It only demands more. And the Beast Rings?

They were no different."

The voice carried through the void, vast and unshaken as if it had been telling this story for eternity. Elion could do nothing but listen as the past unraveled before him, painted in light and shadow. The images came in waves—kings and emperors, sorcerers and warlords—all reaching, all grasping.

"Word of the Beast Rings spread like wildfire.

The First Slayer became a target.

They were no longer the guarded secret of a lone craftsman.

They became legends. Desire. Obsession."

Elion saw it—kingdoms shifting, rulers turning their eyes toward the impossible power that had been forged. Some sought it for salvation. Others for conquest. But in the end, the desire was the same.

To own. To command. To rule.

The First Slayer, who chose to share the power of the beast rings with human kingdoms and empires… never expected such a thing to happen. He believed that giving every kingdom and empire equal access to the beast rings would ensure stability and peace. But, it did not go as he wished. Words got around about how he managed to craft and wield the beast rings. His trusted friends and families leaked his information and identity.

"Kings, emperors, warlords, and sorcerers all wanted them.

When things seemed to favor the humans, then—

Came the betrayal."

Elion shivered as the scene shifted. The First Slayer—once the savior of humankind—now stood alone.

Not against the beasts.

Not against the monsters of the world.

Against his own kind.

"The First Slayer was hunted.

Not by the beasts he once fought… but by those who had once called him an ally."

The sorcerers, the kings, the emperors—those who had sworn to use the rings for humanity's salvation—now saw him as a threat. Elion saw them gathering in the dark. Men and women of immense power, cloaked in royal silks and enchanted armor, wielding staffs and swords that gleamed with stolen magic.

"To them, the First Slayer was too dangerous.

Too powerful.

If one man could command such strength,

then who could stop him from ruling them all?"

Elion felt his pulse race. He had seen this pattern before. History repeats itself again and again.

"They were driven by the same forces they once sought to resist.

Fear. Greed. The need to control."

The First Slayer, for all his knowledge and all his power, struggled to go against an entire world united against him. They came for him in the dead of night, their forces vast, their numbers overwhelming.

"They struck as one—sorcerers, kings, warlords, and others.

Those who had once bowed at his feet now sought to break him.

To take from him the very thing they had once praised him for."

Elion saw the battle unfold, a blur of violence and desperation. The First Slayer did not fall easily.

"Even cornered, even outnumbered, he fought.

Wielding the power of beasts long since slain, he tore through his betrayers like a storm through brittle trees."

Elion saw him move—a shadow among fire, his rings glowing with the power of creatures long dead. A dragon's fire roared from his fists. A speed out of this world carried him through the battlefield like a phantom. A superhuman strength shattered stone and steel alike.

"But in the end—

He was only human."

The battle ended. Not with triumph, not with honor—but with betrayal. The First Slayer fell, not to the claws of a beast or the wrath of the wild, but to the very people he had fought to protect. The same humanity he had lifted from the brink of extinction… had turned on him for power. And yet, the vision refused to show how it happened.

No final blow.

No last words.

Just silence.

A void where an ending should have been. Elion's breath caught in his throat. His chest ached, not from fear, but from something deeper—grief for a man he had never met. He didn't know why, but not seeing the end hurt. Like a story missing its last page. He needed to know. Not just how the First Slayer died.

But why it felt like he had lost something, too.

"Some say they tortured him—ripped the knowledge from his mind,

piece by agonizing piece."

A flicker of agony flashed through the images—chains, blood, whispered secrets wrenched from unwilling lips.

"Others say he gave it willingly, hoping his knowledge would bring an end

to the war between man and beast."

A different image—one of quiet surrender. A man who, even in defeat, believed he had done what was necessary. Elion swallowed hard.

"Most believe the latter, for how else could they have defeated him?"

The scene shifted again. The First Slayer was gone. But his knowledge—his legacy—remained.

"And so, the art of Beast Slaying was no longer his alone."

The voice grew darker, edged with something more dangerous.

"At first, humans used the Beast Rings for what they were meant to be

Tools to slay the creatures that once terrorized them."

Elion watched as warriors donned the rings, facing down the towering monstrosities that had once ruled the world. And they won. One by one, the beasts fell. But the rings remained, and humanity was never satisfied.

"The rings were made to slay beasts.

But soon, they became something far worse."

Elion saw it. The shift. The moment humans stopped using the rings against the beasts… and started using them against each other.

"With every beast slain, another ring was forged.

With every ring forged, another war began."

Elion's stomach churned. It was inevitable, wasn't it? With that kind of power, how could anyone resist?

"What had begun as a means of survival became a tool of conquest.

Kingdoms and empires fought over the rings.

Sorcerers betrayed their own.

Blood was spilled, not for freedom, but for dominion."

He saw armies tearing into each other, wielding the power of beasts—all at the command of men who had forgotten why they had ever fought in the first place.

"The balance of power shifted.

Humanity—once prey, once victims of fate—

now stood as equals to the beasts."

Elion exhaled sharply.

"But equality was not enough. For both sides."

The voice did not pause.

"Humans had clawed their way to balance.

But balance was never what they wanted."

Elion saw it—the battles that continued long after the beasts had been driven back. The warriors wore their rings not in defense but in the pursuit of something more.

"None wanted to be equaled.

None wanted to be ruled."

Elion's stomach twisted. Because he already knew how this story had ended. He stood in the void, the last echoes of the ancient voice still hanging in the air like smoke. He didn't move. Couldn't. His heart was pounding. Not with fear, exactly—but with something heavier. That feeling you get after witnessing something so far beyond yourself, your mind just… stalls.

For a while, there was only silence.

The images of war, betrayal, and power had vanished, but their weight still lingered in his chest like a bruise. He had just seen the rise and fall of entire civilizations—watched humans become gods and then monsters.

And now?

Now, the void felt still. Too still.

Elion exhaled, slow and shaky. His breath echoed in the vast silence, louder than it had any right to be. A single thought crept into his mind, quiet but heavy.

"Is this what happened to Ronan's world?"

The rise. The fall. The betrayal.

He didn't have time to dwell on it—because that's when he saw it. A flicker. A shimmer of light in the distance. Something was changing.

"Wait a minute… What now?" Elion was stunned by what he saw. It was magical.

Lines began to glow faintly across an outline of a human body suspended in the space ahead. A diagram. But it pulsed, alive, like it was waiting for something. He could feel the diagram as if it was his body. Elion took a step forward before a familiar voice cut through the quiet.

Ronan.

Except this time, it wasn't a memory. It wasn't part of the vision. This was like a live recording.

"Sorry," Ronan said, his voice echoing through the white. "Didn't mean to cut the lecture short for you guys."

Elion blinked. "You—wait, you're in here?"

"We're short on time," Ronan continued, ignoring the question. "And I needed you to feel all that right now. Not just see it. That weight? That pressure in your chest? Good. You're starting to understand."

The glowing figure before Elion brightened, and suddenly—he could feel it more clearly. Something in the center of his body. A low hum, like energy stirring beneath his skin.

"To wield a Beast Ring," Ronan said, "you need more than willpower and good intentions."

The glowing outline shifted. A pulse ran through it, tracing intricate paths of light across its form—spine, chest, limbs, head. A constellation of glowing nodes shimmered in perfect sequence.

"You need to unlock your Mana Gates."

Elion raised an eyebrow. "Mana Gates?"

"There are a hundred and eighteen," Ronan said. "Scattered throughout the body like hidden doors. The more you open, the stronger your connection to the ring. The more your body can handle."

The figure's spine lit up—three points glowing brighter than the rest.

"These three," Ronan added, "are the first. One at the base of the spine, one in the chest, one in the forehead."

Elion stared. The glow from the diagram wasn't just light—it was alive. He could feel the rhythm, like a pulse waiting to sync with his own.

"These three are what we call the Foundation Gates. If you can't open them, you can't control a ring. Your body and soul will be swallowed by the ring. End of story."

"Swallowed?"

The word echoed in Elion's head like a warning bell. And just like that, the pieces started to click. He believed the Corrupted Beast Rings didn't just turn people into monsters—they consumed them. It made sense now. None of the humans on Earth knew Mana Gates existed, let alone how to open them. No preparation. No defenses. This meant the moment they put on a ring… they weren't channeling the beast's power.

They were feeding it.

As Elion was busy making his theory, the figure moved. It inhaled, hands moving through a simple but deliberate pattern. Then—one of the Gates flared to life. A burst of energy, like a firework without sound. The entire diagram shivered with raw force.

Elion gasped.

Because somehow, impossibly, he felt it.

It wasn't pain—but it wasn't gentle either. It was like something inside him had been pushed—like an ancient pressure valve cracking open after being sealed for centuries. A tingling buzz ran up his spine. His hands trembled.

He staggered back. "What was that?"

Ronan's voice answered calmly. "That sensation you just felt? That's what happens when a Mana Gate starts to respond. Doesn't mean you've opened it—yet. But now, you know what to look for."

Elion caught his breath, heart thundering in his ears.

"And if you feel something else?" Ronan added, his tone serious now. "If it hurts, burns, or feels like your soul's being torn open? That means you cracked the wrong thing."

"Reassuring," Elion muttered.

He glanced back at the glowing figure. Its light had dimmed slightly—but that lingering energy still tingled in his bones. Even though he'd aced every anatomy and biology class in school, this was a body system he'd never imagined.

Not nerves.

Not blood.

Mana.

And now, it was his job to learn how to open those gates—before the wrong ring found the wrong person… and turned them into a monster.

Then—everything snapped.

Elion's eyes flew open. His whole body jerked like he'd been hit with a surge of electricity. He gasped, lungs dragging in the air like he'd been underwater too long. The cave walls swam back into focus. The fire. The cold stone beneath him. The smell of smoke and moss. He was back.

Beside him, Jordan let out a sharp breath. His hands twitched against his knees, and for once, the usual grin was nowhere to be seen. He blinked, wide-eyed, still trying to process what they'd just seen. He looked at Ronan like he wasn't sure whether to thank him or punch him.

"What… the hell was that?" Jordan finally asked. "How did you even—how did you do that?"

Ronan withdrew his fingers, smirking like someone who'd just dropped them both off a cliff and was now waiting to hear how the landing felt.

"Welcome back."

Elion's heart was still racing. His chest rose and fell in a shaky rhythm. His brain was a blender of images—monsters, rings, wars, glowing bones, and that burning sensation of the Mana Gates.

Jordan let out a breathless, half-crazed laugh. "That… that was insane. Like, next-level crazy. You just uploaded a whole war and knowledge into my brain."

Ronan leaned back, arms folded, that unreadable look settling on his face again. "Now you understand what you're dealing with."

Then he tilted his head, eyes narrowing just enough to make Elion feel like he was being scanned.

"But the real question is…" A flicker of amusement—or maybe challenge—crossed his face. "are you ready to open your first Mana Gate?"